


he tangata ki tahi

by Skyuni123



Series: Brokenwood Fic Week 2019 [3]
Category: The Brokenwood Mysteries
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slice of Life, Sunsets, Vignette, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 00:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17971064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: sunset, on the desk. pre-slash.-written for the brokenwood fic week 2019, which i sorta ran outta time to do in one week. prompt was 'angst'. which this sorta is.





	he tangata ki tahi

 Sometimes they don’t solve the case.

It’s a rarity, but sometimes things don’t get wrapped up in a neat little parcel, tied with a ribbon and sorted in a matter of days. Sometimes the murderer escapes overseas, sometimes they die, sometimes - sometimes they convict the wrong person and Mike can’t do a thing about it.

Because sometimes there’s only a hunch. A gut feeling that something is wrong.

Sometimes that’s not enough.

It had been a bad day. Three days post the death of a young woman, Sara Anderson, beaten brutally by and left to die in a ditch on the side of the road. They’d found her killer - her ex boyfriend - but it had been too late. They’d found him dead too.

There would be no justice for Sara, her family, the community - no closure. Just two bodies - two far too young bodies - and nowhere else to go.

It hurts.

 

He’s sitting on his deck, a glass of his red wine in his hand. It’s not to cope, this drinking. It wouldn’t ever be to cope. He’s seen too many good cops lost to the bottle, and he doesn’t want to go down that road.

“Penny for your thoughts, Mike?” 

It’s Jared, and really, isn’t it always?

He’s pleased to see him, as he always is, though the startle from his thoughts makes him realise how late it is. The sun is nearly setting, only just cresting over the tops of the hills. He’s fairly sure he came outside when it was still light. He puts the wine down, hardly drunk. It’s probably for the best.

 

“I’m not sure that they’re worth that much.”

“All right, bro, cool it with the self-deprecation.” Jared hops up onto the edge of the deck and sits down.  He’s dressed in his usual flannel and looks sweaty, but generally content. “...Seriously though, are you doing alright?”

“Not really.” It’s not a surprise. He’s never been one to hide his emotions under a veil of indifference. That sort of mentality kills. “Some of these cases - the kids, they’re so young.”

“Auē, it’s always worse when they’re young, isn’t it?” Jared steals his wineglass and takes a sip. His eyes widen. “This one of yours, Mike? Did your crop all go to seed when I was away? It’s not one of your greatest hits.”

“Not all of us can just up and go walk the length of New Zealand, Jared.” He takes his wineglass back. There’s a little thread of irritation in his voice, but in his defense, the younger man had up and disappeared without a goodbye. 

“Probably should have come by and said I was heading off, eh?” Jared says, and grasps him on the knee gently. “Sorry. That was rude of me. After the coma and… everything - I just had to leave. You understand, bro?”

“There is a lot of death in Brokenwood.” 

“That there is.”

And Mike lets his hand drift down to rest on top of Jared's, just for a moment. There is no wrongness, only simplicity. It feels a little like the still night is holding its breath. 

 

They watch the sun set for a few minutes, sitting in amiable silence together. That’s the nice thing about Jared - he reads the room well. Simms is analytical, practised - she doesn’t often let her guard down. Breen is the opposite, he can hardly sit still.

But Jared…

Jared seems to get it. There is comfort in the silence, no need for talk. After his long day at work, Mike appreciates it.

 

“Do you ever miss them?” Jared asks, grunting and shifting away, as though he can hear Mike’s thoughts. “The people whose cases you solve? The victims?”

“I hardly know any of them.”

“That’s not true though, is it?” Jared shifts, looks up at him. There’s something unreadable in his dark eyes, something that Mike can’t quite reach and doesn’t have the capacity to try. “It feels like you know them once the case is over, doesn’t it?”

He chuckles, because he’s not wrong. Jared’s never wrong about things like this. “How on earth did you get so much knowledge?”

“Call it a blessing from Rehua himself.” The younger man stretches, and leans against the railing of the deck. “My dad always said I knew too much. I suppose I’d have to agree.”

“I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else, though.” And that’s true as well.

Jared might be some strange kind of swanndri-cover fae, but he gets it, and that doesn’t just happen out of the blue.

There’s something good, here, something he's not felt in quite a few years. He's not going to let it get away from him.


End file.
